


Nonsense

by tackypanda



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:49:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3065018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tackypanda/pseuds/tackypanda
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cadash is the one to obtain the Anchor. Solas isn’t particularly enthused about it, and more baffled about how it could have come to pass than anything - until he actually meets the woman.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nonsense

A dwarf held the power of Fen'Harel's focus. No, he needed to repeat the fact, for even after all the god had seen in his thousands of years of existance, this particular instance had been a bit too fantastic to swallow.  _A dwarf held the power of Fen'Harel's focus._

It was surprisingly simple enough to gain access to the prisoner; he had appeared out of the blue in Haven, donning his new name and playing up the urgency and panic when he informed the Seeker of his knowledge of the Fade. He offered his help, and while no one could hide their distrust (although he knew very well most didn't want to hide it at all), he was allowed access to her bedside without interruption (so they said, as the Seeker - no,  _Cassandra_  - made a point of checking in frustratedly every few hours). There he sat, his brow so furrowed the muscles in his forehead cramped, as he examined the glowing green tear set into her left palm. He willed it to give him some inkling as to how someone so completely disconnected from the Fade could have entered it physically and  _come out_  with the power to manipulate it. He scoured the Fade for something, anything, but his efforts were fruitless, although that came as no surprise - a dwarf went into nothing but darkness in their resting hours, and he could not possibly follow her there. She would undoubtedly die, and while he did feel some remorse over it, he was more worried about what would become of the Anchor.

Then, he decided to study the rest of her - pointless, possibly, but if there was any superficial indication of the special reason  _why_  she had been the one to be marked, he needed to find it. He studied the other parts of her hands - her short, stubby fingers, the skin of her palms rough with fresh callouses and faint teeth marks, yellowing bruises dotting her knuckles. The shoddy armor she donned hid her figure quite well, but she was thick, more in fat than muscle. The stubble that covered her jaw was black, in contrast to the long, brown mane of hair that was falling out of the loose ponytail it was in. A traditional Dwarven tattoo ran in light pink (he had to wonder why she chose  _pink_  as the color) bars across her eyes and down her large, protruding nose and full lips. Nothing special, not with what he knew of standard dwarven appearance, and he had to wonder why he felt the need to inspect the rest of her in the first place.

Yet, as Solas aided the healers in their efforts to keep her alive as best they could, ran his tests, saw her condition begin to improve, kept  _up_  this charade, he found himself truly wanting her to survive. Not just for the sake of her power, but whether he wanted to or not, he  _knew_ intimate details of her life before this just from observing her. She had just recently begun to use weapons regularly, daggers if the nature of her callouses were any indication; she dealt with small animals, docile for the most part but occasionally striking back; she ate well, so she must not have been poor; she did not fight intensively, as she had yet to cut her hair short to prevent it from being a liability; and she clearly was very passionate about the color pink. How could he, in good conscience, let all those go to waste? Besides, perhaps he - er,  _everyone_  - could get some answers once she woke. Not that he expected her to remember anything initially - not unless he did his best to help.

Not long after he deemed that she could wake up at any time now, she was moved to the cells, and he didn't see her again until she was finally up. Cassandra had sent him, Varric, and a small group of soldiers to clear the way to the forward camp to prepare for her arrival - although as things often were, it was easier said than done. They had covered a good amount of ground until they ran into heavy opposition in the form of demons; this was the first time he had done battle since he woke up, and the way the power rushed through his body and burst forth made him feel like he had regained a semblance of control over this disaster of a situation. Cassandra eventually came - literally - barging in, knocking a shade that was about to attack him aside with her shield. He allowed himself a brief moment of distraction to draw his gaze to the direction she came from, and sure enough, there was the prisoner.

She shook ever so slightly, frozen in place, clutching her daggers so tightly to her chest that they could have easily punctured right through to her breast. He was tempted to approach her and coax her into joining, but before he could make up his mind an errant shade descended on her. She screamed, whipping out her daggers and plunging them into its sides. While it was momentarily stunned, she pulled them out and unleahsed a flurry of slashes on it, her expression somewhere in between anger and sheer terror, until one of Varric's bolts pierced it right in its eye and finished it off. The soldiers dealt with the rest while she surveyed the mess, stumbling over her own feet and breathing heavily. She had every right to be scared and confused, really, but there was a rift  _right above them_  and since he had no other choice, she was the only one who could prevent more trouble coming in for them to deal with. 

So, he grabbed her hand and shoved it up to the rift, and the Anchor immediately emitted a beam of power that sealed it instantly. He was focused on the tear, of course, but when the heavy feeling of being watched settled on him, he knew she was focused on him. Not entirely wise, but he couldn't blame her. He released his grip swiftly when it was closed, and the sudden lack of support had the woman nearly falling over. She was hyperventilating now, her eyes darting around in all directions. "I-- you-- I don't-- what the hell is going on? What  _was that_?! I thought I only..." She put her fist to her forehead. "What did you  _do_?"

"I did nothing. The credit is yours." He did his best to keep the smile off his face, the barest hint of ' _oh, if only you knew_ '. But her eyes were open now, and they were blue - ice blue, comparable only to his, questioning, lost,  _sincere_  - and in the realization that perhaps there was something special about her, he may have let that smile slip through for a moment.

She choked out a laugh. "No." She shook her head, forcing a wild smile. "Nope." She put her hands on her hips, desperately trying to steady herself. "'Cause, see, Cassandra here only told me I  _apparently_  have to close that big one over there. She didn't say anything about smaller ones or  _how_." She leaned over slightly, putting her hands on her knees and trying to catch her breath. "I can't... sodding  _shit."_

"But you  _can_ , very much so." 

"Nooo..." She laughed again, so squeaky and high-pitched that it shocked even herself. "It was you, wasn't it? You're a mage, you can do... that weird shit."

He chuckled despite himself. "'Weird shit'?" 

Varric laughed behind them. "That's how I like to describe it myself."

"Weird shit! Flingin' fireballs and snow balls and whatever-the-heck balls and  _poom_ , your guy's on fire or cold or just dead." She put a hand to her chest. "I-I'm not supposed to do that. I'm a dwarf, at a thing and then... it went  _poom_ for me and it wasn't supposed to."

"'Poom', huh?" Varric strolled up to them, smirking. "Mind if I use that in this manuscript I'm working on?"

"Enough." Cassandra dug her heel into the snow, her gaze hardening even more. "What should be addressed is that you  _cannot_  just stand on the outskirts of a battlefield and expect to be safe! Your behavior was entirely reckless!"

The prisoner scoffed. "Seems to me that standing still isn't as reckless as using your shield as some kind of sodding battering ram and expecting  _that_  to protect you."

Cassandra gripped the hilt of her sword. "I  _beg_  your pardon?"

"Cassandra, please." Solas put up a hand, and the Seeker drew back, managing to deflate just a bit. He turned back to the prisoner. "What ever magic opened the breach in the sky also placed that mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach's wake, and it seems I was correct." He offered a small smile at that because, well, of  _course_  he was. Even if he had his doubts about a dwarf being able to unleash such an ability, the magic of his focus was strong enough to surpass even her limitations.

"Oh - is that all?" She scratched the back of her head, eyes cast down to the ground.

Cassandra stepped forward again. "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

"Possibly." He knew what he was going to say next would cause the prisoner to panic a bit - at best, so he put on a more genuine smile and folded his hands together. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

She burst out laughing at that, frenzied and loud, causing her to double over again. She didn't stop for what seemed like a long time, and everyone, including himself, started to grow worried.

"Good to know. Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever," Varric chimed in, an attempt to lighten the mood. She only continued to laugh, moving one hand to cover her face. Varric grimaced and came up next to her. "You alright, kid?"

The guffawing began to die down, thankfully, and she straightened and took a deep breath. "Wish my mom woulda been here to hear  _that_." She chuckled, although it was genuine this time, and ran a hand over her hair. "But you're serious, yeah? Holy shit." She smiled, pained, and tugged on her scarf. "I'm supposed to save you all and I don't even know you."

"Forgive me, where are my manners that our people are so  _famous_  for?" Varric chuckled. "Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tag-along." He winked at Cassandra, and although the Seeker didn't appreciate it, it brought a small smile to the prisoner's face.

"Do you shave?" She craned her head, rubbing her hand over her stubble. "That's a nice shadow you've got going there. I shave and all I get is this prickly dark crap."

"There's your problem; dwarven beards aren't meant to be shaved. They're works of art; that mess is the Ancestors punishing you for your blasphemy. Apparently." He waved it off. "At least I  _think_  that's how the story my brother told me went. I was always much better at that. But no, I've never had a beard; this scruff is natural and unattainable."

Her smile grew wider. "Or maybe your beard just fell onto your chest, huh?"

He laughed, his eyes lighting up for the first time since Solas had known him. " _Shit_ , wherever Broody is, I'll bet he's feeling some sharp, annoying pain in the back of his skull right now." At her confusion, he sighed. "Eh, forget it."

She scrunched her nose up and scratched her head. "It's good to meet you, Varric. It's refreshing to see a dwarf without a beard; hopefully that means you'll be less of an ass."

"I hope so too, for both our sakes." He eyed Cassandra again. "And especially for the Seeker's sake."

Solas found himself smirking. "You may reconsider that stance, in time."

"Aw, I'm sure we'll become great friends in the valley, Chuckles."

Cassandra got into it with him then, as they often did, but Solas couldn't bring himself to pay attention. Instead, he found himself watching the prisoner again, as her eyes darted between from them to the sky and to the crumbling walls, wringing her hands together, mumbling something to herself. 

He cleared his throat softly and stepped closer to her. "My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions. I am pleased to see you still live." Her eyes widened comically.

"He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept'." Varric shook his head, smiling crookedly.

She turned to him then, calmer now thanks to friendly introductions, studying his face much in the way he studied hers. He hadn't been the subject of such scrutiny in thousands of years - although her intentions were far more innocent than those of the past, he couldn't help being the slightest bit unnerved as her eyes scanned over the scar on his forehead, his ears, his nose, his lips, the fur on his collar, stopping on the wolf jaw that dangled from his neck - she was only about as tall as where it hung, he realized, even shorter than Varric. She blinked, then a smile spread across her face.

"I'm Leda. None of you know that, I'm guessing." She shrugged. "Last name ain't important, save it for later." She tugged on her fingers as she gazed up at his scar again. "But anyway... slept. I mean, I know I slept, but from how you were talking and all, I was out for a while?"

Solas nodded. "Not only did you survive an explosion that killed everyone else in its wake, you are a  _dwarf_  who entered the physical Fade. I'd surmise dwarves would be reduced to fainting in their waking hours by merely dreaming. There was no doubt that the experience would kill you." He found himself turning her name over in his mind. "All things considered, you made a remarkable recovery in a short amount of time."

She rubbed her arms, chilled by both the weather and his explanation, he imagined. "Oh. Good. I think. You, uh, you seem to know a great deal about it all."

"Solas is an apostate, well-versed in such matters." He didn't know whether to take Cassandra's comment as complimentary or back-handed, but to be honest, he was more focused on the wonder in Leda's voice, surprising him.

"Technically all mages are now apostates, Cassandra. My travels have allowed me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. I came to offer what ever help I can give with the Breach. If it is not closed, we are all doomed, regardless of origin."

Leda blinked several times, rubbing the back of her neck and offering a hesitant smile. "Okay... whatever you say. That does sound nice, though. Not the last part, obviously, that's not nice at all." She cleared her throat, a bit of color coming to her cheeks. "That's, uh, that's admirable, though. Comin' into all this voluntarily for 'the good of the world' and all that."

He found himself smiling slightly. "Merely sensible, although sense appears to be in short supply right now."

"Hate to break it you, Chuckles, but sense has been scarce since the beginning of time. Wartime just gives people an excuse to be without it." Varric chuckled and shrugged. "Not that I'm saying I have any myself."

Leda snorted. "I'll say, you've got your tunic wide open and it's freezing cold out here."

"See? She gets it."

"Regardless, it would be entirely irresponsible of me to attempt to save myself instead of put my knowledge to good work with your cause." That, and he didn't have the option to do anything else. This would be a means to an end, and he had to do everything in his frustratingly limited power to see that it reached the end he needed.

"And your assistance is commendable, Solas. Even necessary." Cassandra cast a hard look at Varric. "Come, we must get to the forward camp quickly."

Solas made a move to follow her, but Leda tugged on his wrist, and he turned to see her staring up at him with apprehension. "I just need to talk to you for a moment, 'til Cassandra gets pissed." He nodded, a hint of a smile turning up the corners of his lips. "First off, I just wanted to thank you for letting me not die."

"I was merely fulfilling my responsibilities, but you are welcome." 

"So you don't know why this happened to me, either? How? Why it was  _me_?"

He held back a sigh. "I made many attempts to discover the cause and nature of your predicament, but they proved futile. Perhaps we will both find the answers, eventually."

"Maybe." She shut her eyes tight, biting down on her lip. "I've gotta close that big ~Breach~, right? What if that kills me?"

"Perhaps it won't. Closing the rift did not put you through any serious physical strain; although the Breach is gargantuan in scale, I do not believe that it will put you through the same stress that being in the Fade and receiving the mark did. Still, it is merely an assumption." Her eyes grew glassy, and he struggled with what to say next. Better that she feared her power than view it as something she could abuse as a weapon - one of his greatest fears while she had still been unconscious - but it was useless if she was too afraid to use it. "I understand that you are scared - I would be shocked if you weren't. But you've already proven your capability, and you will have many more opportunities to do so before we reach the Breach. You have more power at your disposal than the rest of us, however strange it is that it came to be that way. Whether or not the mark is enough to seal it, I believe you will survive." 

She stared at him intently for a few moments, until she broke into a snicker. "You rhymed."

"Rhymed?"

She grinned, baring her big, crooked teeth. "You said 'reach the Breach'." She wiped her nose on her sleeve, continuing to laugh. 

Despite himself, he smiled in turn. "It was unintentional, but I am... glad it brought you such amusement." He probably would have been frustrated with her had the circumstances been different, whether this was due to a poor attention span or her implementing an avoidance technique. But her laughter was more infectious than he liked.

She looked down at the ground. "And you're not wearing any shoes?! I mean, I know a lot of elves do that, but we're in the snow! We're fighting!" 

"A _hem_ ," Cassandra called, appearing in their line of vision again looking sufficiently annoyed. "It would behoove us  _all_  to get moving."  _  
_

Leda sighed, patting his arm and trudging forward. "You're funny, c'mon."

He stood there for a moment, staring after her,  _baffled_. "I... cannot say I have ever been called  _funny_  before."

"Maybe I'll change my mind the more I know you, I dunno." She shrugged. "But I think I'll like travelling with you, yeah? But right now I really wanna go get behind Cassandra, 'cause I can fit right behind her shield, you know. You should see it." She ran after her, and Solas finally willed himself to follow, unable to keep a small smirk off his face.

She was a mystery, to be sure, and definitely something to watch. But more importantly, he was confident it wouldn't be difficult to steer her in the direction he wanted.


End file.
